Mind, Body, and Soul
by ProbableImpossibilities
Summary: Most of her peers believe Sir Integra is suffering from an extreme identity crisis. But really, that's not even the half of it. If only they knew...
1. Prologue

I know that you are probably very angry with me. You think that what I have done is cruel and unfair, and you believe that I have given you a curse. But au contraire, my friend, for what I have really given you is a gift. It is not a physical gift like chocolates or flowers, nor will you be able to see it right away. It is not something to be received instantly, and the only way to receive it in its entirety is to slowly and patiently peel back the layers of wrapping, one by one. You see, this world is in such a state that its occupants have fooled themselves into believing that the only good gifts are material. It is their opinion that the only things that matter are wealth, good looks, fame, or power. But you and I, Integra; we are the few who know the truth. You know, as well as I, that such things are merely vapors in the wind, brief and temporary as the blink of an eye. Your close relationship with the No-Life King has granted you the opportunity to see first-hand that such things do not matter in the slightest in the grand scheme of things. So, what is it that truly matters? Humanity, for one. And our humanity rests on our character, our tried-and-true beliefs that sustain us through good times and bad. One of the most important contributors to one's character is knowledge, and many are of the opinion that knowledge itself is the pinnacle of human achievement. But far greater than knowledge alone is wisdom, and true wisdom can only come through understanding. We can understand concepts and ideas, but we are wisest when we learn to understand each other. This, as I'm sure you've found, is no easy task. Trying to understand another human being could be compared to trying to understand an alien artifact. Sometimes you even have to learn a whole new language. But trust me when I say, there is no greater gift than the gift of understanding. This is the gift I give to you, Integra. It is a gift some people go through their entire lives without ever receiving. Use it well, nurture it, and help it grow to its full potential. Learn to understand that which is most foreign to you, and perhaps, we could learn to understand each other.

Until we meet again, Integra. I will be waiting.


	2. Chapter 1

Integra sat at the small outdoor café table, drinking her tea in silence. Passerby gave the sidewalk table strange looks; the man and woman sitting there radiated pure, unadulterated malice, and they were afraid of it. However, Integra was nonplussed by their stares. She generally had that effect on people when she was in a bad mood. Maxwell, however, was a bit uncomfortable. "Sir Integra," he said, raising an eyebrow at a punk who was eyeing him peculiarly from a street corner. "Could we not have chosen a more... ah... _private_ place to have this meeting?"

Integra put her teacup back on the table and folded her hands. "Frankly, I don't trust you, Maxwell," she said bitterly. "I could throw you farther than I trust you. It is for that reason that I will not agree to meeting in any sort of private place where you could ambush me out of the public eye. Especially not while I'm on your turf." Her eyes narrowed. "Try anything fishy, and I will personally crush your Catholic windpipe."

The two had agreed to meet in Milan this time around, and for that, Maxwell was grateful. He did not enjoy going to London; he found the city boring and gloomy. He failed to understand how anyone could live in such a dark, rainy place; perhaps the weather was the reason the people there could be so disagreeable. "Your concern has been duly noted," he said. "Now, let's get down to business, shall we? It is my understanding that Hellsing agents were recently deployed to Mexico, which is undisputed Catholic territory. My superiors want to avoid bloodshed, so I simply ask that you pull your forces out, and I will forget this ever happened."

Integra sighed angrily. Maxwell was so annoying; he was like one of those crickets that sits right on your window-sill in the middle of the night and refuses to shut up. Not to mention that the tune he was chirping changed with the whims and fancies of his 'superiors'. "And if I don't pull out..?" she asked, even though she was pretty sure what the answer would be. Maxwell didn't disappoint.

"There will, of course, be dire consequences," he said, smiling that 'scheming' grin of his that really reminded Integra more of a Chihuahua on crack. "If you dare refuse us, there will be serious hell to pay, sow!"

"Well, I can tell this is rather important to you because your left eye is bugging out again," Integra replied calmly. "However, I fail to see any good reason for me to pull out of Mexico. After what happened in Badrick, it's become obvious that your agents are no match for Alucard. Unless you've suddenly found a way to make good on your empty threats and useless blathering, my agents will remain in Mexico for as long as I see fit. And if this is all we're having this meeting for, then I will be taking my leave, pig."

"Not so fast, you empty-headed animal!" Maxwell snapped. "You think the entire world is yours to do with as you please, but let me be the first to inform you that it is not! There are rules that need to be followed, traditions that need to be upheld, and you do nothing but wantonly break these rules as if you were Queen of the universe! Nothing is sacred to you!"

"At least I have control over my own life," Integra snapped back. "I'm fed up with your plastic smiles and empty promises. You're a slave to politics, Maxwell! You won't do anything that would put your own position in danger, and you bend over backwards so you can shine the Pope's shoes! You're a yapping dog that does nothing but bark and beg for treats!"

Maxwell was furious. "How dare you! You haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about! Listen to you, spouting such nonsense! Maybe if you'd lift your head out of that feudal mud puddle you crawl around in, you'd get a glimpse of the real world!"

"I live in the real world, Maxwell," Integra growled. "And it amazes me how such weak-willed political leeches like you manage to survive! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a life to get back to." She stood up abruptly, pushed in her chair, and turned around to face the street. Suddenly, she found herself facing the grill of a car, careening off the road and heading straight for her. She didn't have time to get out of the way before the moving vehicle slammed into her, and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 2

Maxwell came back to consciousness slowly, as if wading through tar. At first he found it impossible to even open his eyes; all he knew was that he was lying down, and every single part of his body hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced. He groaned, but all that really exited his lips was a breathy sigh. Rather than try to open his eyes, he strained to remember what had happened before he'd blacked out. He and Integra Hellsing had been sitting outside a café... she'd offended him... there'd been a car...

He opened his eyelids slowly, with great difficulty. Once the world came into focus, he found himself staring up at a white ceiling. He couldn't turn his head, he couldn't move at all, but he heard the beeping of a machine next to him and realized he was probably in a hospital. He wondered how severe the damage was; something felt... odd. Maxwell couldn't place it, but he could sense there was something off, something that wasn't quite right. His neck and his lower back were giving him the most pain, so the car had probably caught him somewhere on his torso. _I wonder how long I've been out?_ he thought. _Probably days. Is Anderson here yet?_

Maxwell tried to sit up, but it only took a slight movement of his neck for him to realize that such an action was completely out of the question. He'd barely twitched, but the pain jarred through his body like an electrical current. He did his best to return to a relaxed position, breathing heavily. Suddenly, the thought entered his mind that he might be crippled, or paralyzed. The realization that such a thing was all too possible caused instant panic, and he immediately began trying to move his fingers and toes. Thankfully, everything was in working order, but he still didn't have the strength to lift his head and actually see anything but ceiling.

As he wiggled his fingers, he felt that same feeling that something was out of place. There was something in the motion that was all wrong. Maxwell began to feel true worry creeping through his veins, and his heart began to beat a little faster than normal. _There's something truly wrong here,_ he thought. _Something is horribly wrong_. Summoning all the strength he could muster, he slipped his hand out from under the hospital bed sheets and lifted it up. Slowly, he brought it before his face, and upon sight of it he nearly screamed. The hand he was looking at was not his!

He bit his trembling lip so hard he could taste blood, heart and mind filled with pounding terror. The hand before him was bruised and swollen, but long, thin, and very tan. As Maxwell studied it, a new, horrible idea began forming in his mind. With mounting dread, he began to realize that what had happened to him may have been far worse than paralysis, far worse than anything else he could think of, possibly even death. Ignoring the pain, he turned his head to the side, so he was now looking into the reflective chrome lining of the hospital bed. With complete and utter horror, he saw that the face looking back at him was not his. It had long blond hair and blue eyes, and it was the face of Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing.

-XXXXX-

Integra was jolted back to consciousness by a long, loud scream, emanating from somewhere to her left. Looking around her, she immediately realized that she was in a hospital, and probably still in Milan. She felt sore all over, and didn't really have the strength to lift her head just yet, but she felt surprisingly good for having been hit head-on by a moving vehicle. The screaming trailed off, and she could hear nurses rushing around attempting to soothe the panicked patient, who seemed to be hyperventilating and moaning frantically. Integra sighed and thought to herself, _That idiot Maxwell probably had me put in the dementia ward. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if it was an Iscariot driving that car. Bloody morons. There will be serious hell to pay for this..._

She grunted and propped herself up against the headboard of the hospital bed. Immediately, she noticed three things that chilled her to the bone. The first was that she was missing two things that were supposed to be attached to her chest. As if that wasn't disconcerting enough, there was something... _down there_... that she knew hadn't been there before. And to top it all off, her arms looked unusually pale. Not vampire pale, but more like office-worker pale. _What the heck?_ she thought. _My __dreams__ aren't this odd..._

Suddenly, she knew. She couldn't explain how, but the realization of what had happened crashed down on her like a tidal wave of cement. _Oh my god..._ she thought, emotions flying about madly between panic and fury. _Bloody hell..._

Integra looked for something reflective, just to make sure. Inspection of the room showed that there was a mirror between some cabinets and hand sanitizer containers on the wall directly across from the bed. She looked into it without getting up, and sure enough, the face in the mirror did not belong to her. She knew the violet eyes, long nose, silver hair, and sneering mouth all too well; if there had been something sufficiently sharp in the room, she would have killed herself right then. There was only the constantly beeping and dripping IV, which she was sure she didn't really need, and the medical tape keeping it tethered to her arm was suddenly impossible to remove. Still, she tried to pull it off, only to discover that her hands were trembling furiously, making it impossible to even grasp the tape's edge. Frustrated and desperate, she flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.

"Who or whatever did this," she whispered, becoming increasingly furious with every syllable and trying not to notice the fact that she spoke with someone else's voice. "I will not rest until I've found you and made you taste my wrath. I don't care if this is the work of God himself; if it is, then let me be damned to hell! If there is no way to reverse this, so be it, but I will have my revenge."

And with that, Integra got out of bed and started walking towards the door, dragging the IV along only as an afterthought. She was going to have a much needed look around...

-XXXXX-

_AN: Yeah, so this chapter has officially vaulted this fic into the position of the strangest I have ever written. Don't take this one too seriously; it's just going to be a short, easy way to vent my weird-ness. Possible pairing later on, but I've never written a pairing fic before... we'll see how that goes. XD_


	4. Chapter 3

Before Integra could open the door, however, it swung open with a bang, revealing an incredibly distressed Alexander Anderson. He was breathing heavily and covered in sweat; the frenzied look in his eyes made Integra take a step back. _Does he know?_ she thought to herself. _Maybe he knows how to get out of this mess-_

Suddenly, Anderson lunged forward and wrapped her in a crushing bear hug. Integra was so stunned she didn't even realize she wasn't breathing.

"Ah'm sae glad ye're alright!" the regenerator exclaimed. "Ah got here as fast as Ah could… Ah heard it was bad, Ah wish ye would'a let me stay with ye, Ah ran all the way here-"

Integra cut off the burly man's babbling with a strained, breathless gasp. "Let… me… go! Need… air… you dolt…"

Anderson immediately set her down and took a step back. "Ah'm sorry, Chief," he said. "Ah was jist worried, that's all." He lowered his voice. "That Integra Hellsing's in the next room. Ah'd bet mah weight in gold she's behind this somehow. Dirty Protestant."

Integra realized immediately that Anderson had no idea what was really going on, and that if she told him, it was likely he would kill her on the spot. She would have to pretend she really was Maxwell, at least for the time being. Still, her pride wouldn't let Anderson's flawed train of thought continue any further. "How could she be behind it?" she asked, carefully trying to remain neutral. "She was more directly in the path of the vehicle than I. If anyone would have died in that situation, it would have been her." She thought for a minute. That sounded too sympathetic for Maxwell. "Of course, I wouldn't put it past her to devise a stupid plan like that. Maybe being Protestant kills brain cells."

Anderson had this strange look on his face. Integra started to wonder if perhaps the Protestant crack had sounded a little too forced. She'd never been the best of liars, because she'd never felt the need to tell anyone anything but the truth, in all its cruel glory. Nor had she ever tried her hand at any sort of acting; losing her father and being forced to kill her own uncle at age twelve put an end to any desire she may have had to pretend. She would just have to say she was out of sorts and stay as far away from anyone and everyone as possible. However, that would be impossible in the hospital.

She looked Anderson in the eye. "When are they going to let me out of here?" Maxwell's voice felt unfamiliar, almost clumsy, and the question hadn't come out the way she'd wanted it to. She sounded more like a loon begging to be released from an asylum than a cool, calm, and collected leader in full possession of her/his faculties. This was going to be harder than she'd anticipated...

Anderson clasped his hands behind his back. "Well, ah, the doctor said ye have tae stay for two more days before ye can go."

"Two days?" Integra eyed him, angry and incredulous. "That simply will not do! I can't stay in this stuffy prison that long! Is there even anything wrong with me? Physically, I mean," she added, more for her own sake than Anderson's. "Be honest."

Anderson fidgeted. "Well, not really, but the doctor said they have tae make absolutely sure... ya know..."

"Then I'm leaving now." Integra turned, crossed the room, and started opening cabinets. "Where did they put my clothes?"

"Whit? But, Chief, ye cannae-"

Integra opened a drawer beneath the sink and pulled out Maxwell's clothes. She set them on the bed and slowly began pulling the IV tape off her (well, Maxwell's) arm. Inwardly she was cringing, but she tried her hardest not to let Anderson see. Even if she was Maxwell, she refused to show any weakness of any sort.

However, the tape wouldn't budge. "I'm going to go ask the receptionist for a pair of scissors," she said, and turned to leave. Suddenly, Anderson's hand shot out and gently but firmly pinned her chest to the wall.

"Ah'm sorry, Chief, but Ah cannae let ye do that," he said. "Ah know ye want out, but rules are rules, an' they're for yer own good. Besides, Father Renaldo would blow ae gasket if ye left now. Dinnae worry, the Vatican will still be there when ye get back."

Integra nodded numbly, though she'd barely heard a word of what Anderson had just said. She'd been more focused on reminding herself that Maxwell was a male and there was nothing wrong with Anderson's method of restraint. Finally, she pulled herself together. "Let me go, you Razumikhin," she ordered, and Anderson dropped his arm. Integra leaned back against the wall and considered her options. After coming to the conclusion that she had none, she closed her eyes and sighed. "Fine. I'll stay if it makes you feel better, but as soon as the second day is over I am out of here, understand?"

Anderson smiled in what looked to Integra like relief. It made her wonder if maybe Maxwell was capable of a fiercer wrath than she'd assumed.

"Aye, sir," he said. "If ye need anything, jist let me know." With that, he turned and left the room.

Integra waited a couple of seconds to make sure the regenerator was gone, then opened the door and followed suit. "I need a cigar," she mumbled, "but I doubt you'll get me that. For now, however, I'm going to make a little visit to the room next door..."

-XXXXX-

It had taken Maxwell over twenty minutes to calm himself down, and even after all that he was still panicked. The nurse hadn't helped at all; in fact, she'd probably made things worse. Thankfully, she'd left after he'd managed to get his heart-rate down to a sensible level. He let his head sink into the pillow and closed his eyes. Why did these things always have to happen to him? His life had been crap from the minute he'd come into this god-forsaken world.

He opened his eyes and sat up, slowly and carefully. The nurse had fitted his neck with a brace, which would allow him to actually move without causing a stabbing pain. Rather than look down at Integra's body and start up a new panic attack, he looked around the room, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. The hospital room was bare and white, exactly the same as the billions of other hospital rooms around the globe. There were tall cabinets, a sink, and a mirror, but he decided not to let his gaze rest there for too long.

To his right stood a small table, rather like a nightstand, and on it had been placed a number of colorful bouquets, likely get-well-soon presents for you-know-who. On the far left of the table stood a blue vase, stuffed to the brim with bright-yellow sunflowers. Someone obviously liked yellow. A small card among the sunflowers identified them as having come from Seras Victoria, the female vampire. Maxwell was slightly disturbed by this. A vampire who sends sunflowers? There was something wrong with that.

Next to the sunflowers stood a crystal vase filled with artfully placed but not professionally arranged orchids and morning glories. Another small card stated that this vase had come from someone named Walter. This "Walter" had obviously made the arrangement himself, and put considerable time into doing so. Maxwell wracked his brain; he couldn't remember ever meeting anyone named Walter when he was in London.

Lying on the table between the two bouquets was perhaps the strangest flower Maxwell had ever laid eyes on. It was a rose, completely jet-black with an only half-opened bud. The petals, the leaves, the stem, and the thorns were all black, as if the plant had grown that way. Just underneath the bud, someone had tied a crimson ribbon into a loose knot. A slip of paper had been folded in half and placed next to the rose so it stood on its own; rather than identify the sender, the note simply read, "For my Master."

Maxwell took a closer look at the note, and had to try very hard to keep himself from vomiting. The note had been written in human blood. _My God,_ he thought. _Who on earth would send such a vile thing?_

Suddenly, he sensed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to look, and realized that something was phasing through the wall to his left. It was all Maxwell could do to keep from crying out as a shadowy form materialized and took a step towards him.

The thing grinned. "Did you miss me... my Master?"


	5. Chapter 4

Maxwell realized immediately what was going on, and he did not like it one bit. In fact, he was beginning to seriously fear for his life. He started to sweat. Of course, the fact that everything around him was suddenly blurred wasn't helping at all. _Oh God, that... thing... thinks I'm... Oh God oh God oh God oh God..._

Alucard took a step towards him, but suddenly pulled up short of the bed. "Master... are you well?"

"What do you mean, 'am I well'?" Maxwell spazzed. "Do I look 'well' to you? IDIOT!" _Oh God oh God oh God oh God..._

The vampire, far from being surprised at this outburst, chuckled darkly. "I see you're still as loud as ever. I was beginning to get worried, Master. When I came in, you acted like you didn't recognize me." Alucard glided over to the side of the bed, standing next to the table. He grinned slyly. "Did you like my gift? Don't worry, the note's not anyone we know."

Maxwell fought a sudden urge to vomit. He'd been so worried about getting his own psychological state under control, he'd completely forgotten about what he would do when the vampire showed up. _What do I do?_ he panicked. _If the vampire finds out I'm not really its master, it'll kill me for sure!_

Alucard stared at Maxwell with his head tilted slightly to one side, almost like a puppy. He seemed to be waiting for Maxwell's feedback. Maxwell took a deep breath. "The rose is very..." He struggled to find an appropriate word. "...original."

Alucard looked crestfallen. "You don't like it."

Maxwell was shocked. The vampire Alucard, an evil, soul-less creature of the night who'd killed millions of people, was standing over him, pouting like a discouraged five-year-old. "I... uh... well, it's... umm..." he stammered, suddenly speechless. This could not be happening. It was all too sudden, too incredulous, for him to fathom.

Alucard began to look concerned. "Are you sure you're alright, Master? You're not acting yourself."

Maxwell began to sweat. The machine next to him beeped furiously as his heart rate increased, and he saw Alucard's crimson eyes flit over the screen. Maxwell wondered what would happen if the vampire found him out. Nothing positive came to mind.

Suddenly, Alucard whipped his head around to stare at Maxwell. The vampire's eyes glowed with a hellish light, and Maxwell shrank back in terror. As he stared into Alucard's eyes, he realized he could feel something... probing him. Searching his thoughts.

_He's in my brain! THE VAMPIRE'S IN MY BRAIN!_

Maxwell yelped, and immediately the probing sensation withdrew. Alucard's eyes ceased to glow, but the scowl contorting his features was far more frightening than anything Maxwell had ever seen. The vampire growled. "How long were you planning on keeping up this charade, Maxwell?"

Maxwell trembled. Alucard looked like Hell itself in all its fury.

The Nosferatu bared his fangs. "Did you really think you could fool me?" he thundered. "You simpleton! How dare you toy with me?"

Maxwell nearly fainted. Instead, he shut his eyes and waited for his own undoubtedly painful demise.

However, after thirty seconds or so of nothing, he cracked open an eyelid and saw Alucard staring at him with an eyebrow raised. "What are you doing? I'm talking to you, you know."

Maxwell blinked. "You're not going to shoot me or rip me limb from limb?"

Alucard sighed. "Unfortunately, no. You have no idea how much I would love to rip out your jugular and bind your wrists with it, but Sir Integra would not be very pleased with me. Besides, spilling blood in a hospital is rather lacking in taste, don't you agree?"

"Oh, yes, very distasteful indeed..." Maxwell sputtered, mind's eye suddenly filled with horrid images of being tied up with his own veins.

Alucard saw his discomfort, and grinned. "Having frightening mental images? Nightmare-material, at the very least. Come on, tell me. Have I instilled the fear of Alucard properly into your soul?"

Maxwell suddenly began to feel very frustrated, rather than scared witless. After all, he was in the body of the vampire's master, so what could Alucard do to him? Other than torture him mentally. And Alucard's sudden mood swings and constant degradation were wearing his already-strained patience thin. He gritted his teeth. "Just tell me if you know how to reverse this."

Alucard huffed. "What do you think I am? A genie?" He crossed his arms and scowled. "Even if I was, there'd be no way in h*** I'd give you any wishes. Now don't get me wrong; I want you out of here as soon as possible. But I'm not some magical library that knows the solutions to everything ever."

Maxwell glared. "I can see that. However, I was hoping that you would know the solution to _**anything**_ ever."

Alucard snarled menacingly. "Solve your own freaking Twilight-zone problems, Catholic." And with that, he turned on his heel and reached for the doorknob.

"Wait!" Maxwell shouted. "Where do you think you're going? You can't just leave me here! I can't even see right!"

The Nosferatu didn't even turn his head. "This is starting to get really uncomfortable for me, so I'm going to find out what happened to Master before I succumb to the temptation to jump rope with your spinal cord. Oh, and by the way, Sir Hellsing's glasses are on the counter over there."

Maxwell followed Alucard's gaze, and sure enough, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses sat on a counter on the other side of the room. "So..?" he hinted.

Alucard paused, turned around, and raised an eyebrow. "So what?"

"Aren't you going to get them for me?"

The vampire snarled. "Is this a joke?"

Maxwell folded his arms. "It's not like I can get them. I can barely move." He grinned, an idea having just popped into his head. An idea he knew Alucard would be absolutely furious with. "Besides, since I now occupy the body of your master... does it not follow that-"

"Shut up..." Alucard growled.

"-that you must obey my commands?"

"No, it does not follow!" Alucard shouted. "I have no obligation to you, Maxwell! Only a blood member of the Hellsing family may hold the right to-"

"Fetch me the glasses." Maxwell grinned wryly. "Your 'master' commands it."

Alucard froze. "You are not my master," he growled quietly.

Maxwell looked him in the eye. "Do it. Now."

For the first time, Alucard faltered. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could and turned away, facing his back to Maxwell. Slowly, ever so slowly, he crossed over to the counter, picked up the glasses, and started walking with agonizing, measured steps towards the hospital bed, eyes still closed. However, halfway there he seemed to reconsider something.

Maxwell sighed. No matter how entertaining the whole process was, it wasn't very practical if the cursed vampire took half an hour to take ten steps. "Give me the glasses."

Suddenly, Alucard's mouth curled upward into a conniving grin. "Yes sir," he mocked, and threw the glasses as hard as he possibly could right into Maxwell's face.

Needless to say, "as hard as he possibly could" means something entirely different for Alucard than for the average human. Maxwell had no time to react before the glasses collided with his nose with an incredible force, almost enough to make it bleed. It was like getting punched in the face.

"Oww!" he yelped. The glasses had caused his head to fly back, which of course sent a stabbing pain throughout his body as the motion jarred his neck. After biting his lip to keep from crying out, Maxwell took several long breaths through his nose in an effort to relax his tensed muscles. By the time the pain subsided and he had the miraculously unhurt glasses placed on the bridge of his nose, Alucard was about to walk out the door.

The vampire grinned fiendishly. "Have fun! Seras and Walter should be here soon."

Maxwell blinked. Alucard was considerably scarier when he wasn't just a big red blur. "What, you're not going to tell them?"

Alucard thought about it. "No, I don't think so. I want to see how you handle the situation." He grinned. "It should be very entertaining. But for now, I have other things to attend to."

"What kind of things could a vampire possible have to attend to at noon?"

Alucard's eyes narrowed. "Important things beyond your feeble human comprehension." He placed a hand on the doorknob. "If you'll excuse me."

Suddenly, Alucard opened the door, and it swung inwards as someone began to open it from outside. The combined forces of both motions pulled whoever it was into the room and sent both Alucard and the newcomer tumbling to the floor in a surprised heap.

Maxwell strained forward as far as he could, trying to get a glimpse of who it was. But all he could see was a hospital gown and the corner of Alucard's obnoxious red fedora. He heard a faint groan, and someone starting to stand up. From what little he could see of Alucard, he could tell that the vampire wasn't moving, and was, in fact, just sitting there on the floor.

Suddenly, the newcomer stood up and leaned on the wall, clutching their elbow where the IV had been pulled out of position by the fall.

Maxwell recognized the face immediately; it would be impossible for him not to. His eyes widened, and he felt his heart rate increase and his chest tighten.

"My God..." he breathed. "You're... me!"


	6. Chapter 5

Integra bit her lip, clutching her elbow where the IV had been partially dislodged by the fall. "Bloody vampire!" she grumbled through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at Alucard, who hadn't yet picked himself up off the floor. "Honestly, what do I keep you around for? Useless, bumbling, idiotic git..."

The British insults just didn't sound right coming out of Maxwell's mouth.

Alucard suddenly grinned and stood up. "I was wondering how long it would take you to get here, Master," he said, crimson eyes glinting with a mischievous light. "I must admit, this whole situation is quite amusing. I wonder if-"

Integra held up a finger and shot Alucard a stern glare. "Not a word more about amusement, do you hear me? There is nothing funny about this." She folded her arms. "But we'll talk later, I'm sure. As for now, Enrico Maxwell-" she spat out the name like a poison "-and I have some things to discuss."

Alucard grinned again. "Very well. I will leave you to your..." He chuckled darkly. "...discussion." Turning back towards the hospital bed, he mockingly tipped his hat. "Have fun, Catholic."

Maxwell humphed. _After what I went through for a simple favor from that creature, talking to a sane person, heathen or not, will be a breeze,_ he thought to himself.

_Not likely. If you thought I was bad, there's little chance you'll make it out of this 'discussion' alive._

Maxwell blinked in confusion, then noticed Alucard grinning wickedly and realized that he'd just had his thoughts invaded. He gritted his teeth. "Get out of my head..." he grumbled under his breath.

Alucard only smirked and walked out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Integra drug the IV over to a corner and sank into an armchair, never taking her eyes off of Maxwell.

The latter, while finding it impossible to break eye contact, found this extremely uncomfortable and whished, for the hundredth time, that he'd just stayed home the day of the accident.

Integra pushed all qualms about glaring at herself aside, and took a deep breath. "Do you have any idea just how RIDICULOUS THIS MESS IS?" she shouted, not quite sure she was going to yell at Maxwell about, but knowing that she was going to all the same, and that she would do so with gusto. "Why is it that you Iscariots have to go around bungling everything up? There has never been an incident in which Section Thirteen was involved that was free of idiocy! By God, you are all so USELESS! Do you even have brains?"

"Well, obviously," Maxwell muttered. "You're using mine, aren't you?"

Seeing the sour expression on her own face gave Integra slight pause, but she wasn't about to give up that easily. "If your brain, if it even exists (which is still up for debate), were still inside this abysmal cavity you call a skull, WE WOULDN'T BE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION!"

Maxwell smirked slightly. "Not so. You don't really think we actually switched _brains_, do you?" he sneered, as if explaining to a slow child. "That's absurd. We would have been under for far longer, and we'd have no control of motor functions, not to mention the undoubtedly enormous head lacerations required to actually _remove_ a brain and –"

"Then what was it?" Integra interrupted. "Enough crap. If you're so smart, you tell me what happened! Tell me! Tell me right now, you artless incompetent!"

Maxwell blinked. It was obvious she'd caught him off-guard. "W- well, how do you expect me to know that?" he faltered angrily. "I'm not some physicist! Go ask Section Two, they probably..." Suddenly, he stopped as if realizing something. "That's it..." he mumbled to himself. "Section Two..."

"What in the world are you blabbering about?" Integra snapped, anxious to see if Maxwell had figured out anything important. "I'm assuming Section Two are more of your Vatican cronies..."

"Section Two is the Vatican's Supernatural Sciences Department," Maxwell muttered, lost in thought. "That report... was it two months ago? I wish I'd finished reading it..."

He didn't seem to remember that Integra was there; she hoped he'd keep talking to himself, as he was likely to give something important away.

"It was so strange..." Maxwell murmured. "Something about... what was the word? Life-entity transfer. Yes, that was it, I'm sure..." Suddenly, he looked up and remembered that he wasn't alone in the room.

Integra smirked. "Life-entity transfer? Do tell..."

Maxwell cringed inwardly. He'd just let top-secret Vatican information slip into the hands of his arch-nemesis. "_Che palle_," he muttered. "Why do you have to be like that?"

"Who were you talking to, me or yourself?" Integra loved watching people's reactions when they figured out she had them beat. "Come on now, don't be stingy with information. I'll figure it out eventually, you know... might as well finish what you started."

Maxwell glared at her. "_Vaffanculo_."

Integra had heard that expression used before, and she knew it meant 'screw you'. She was obviously wearing her opponent's patience thin. "Oh, but you've piqued my curiosity..." she said, and as she reveled in her victory, she started to feel something... strange. She smirked, and she felt her right eye narrow, and her lips pulled back over her teeth as her mouth twisted into a crooked grin. Her left eye widened, and ever so slightly, she felt something... twitch.

_Oh God no_, she thought in horror, and her facial control was immediately restored as she reeled in shock. "My face... moved by itself..." she muttered, trying and failing to keep her cool.

Maxwell, though a bit shaken, didn't seem surprised. "You see?" he said. "We can't have traded brains. My facial movement memory patterns are still there. My brain is still exactly the same, only you're in it somehow, and I'm not."

Integra rubbed her temples. "Great. So brain-switching is out. That gets us a fat load of nothing." She looked up and glared at Maxwell. "I still think you're behind this somehow."

Maxwell raised an eyebrow. "Why in the world would I be behind this? I _hate_ you. Why would I ever want to _be_ you?"

"Oh, I don't know," Integra snapped. "Maybe so you could liberate yourself of that ridiculous eye twitch?"

Maxwell narrowed his eyes. "Oh, please. That's hardly a reason; you don't seriously think that. No, you're thinking that I'm going to run off to Hellsing HQ, steal all your files, and then use some antidote that I created before-hand to get back into my body and ruin your organization. Well, you heathens may operate like that, but I do not. Right now, I couldn't care less about your stupid Order of Protestant Knights. So just go back to where you came from while I try to figure out a solution for this mess!"

That was exactly what Integra had suspected Maxwell would do, and, despite his speech, she was still firmly convinced that that was exactly what was going to happen. But further discussion with Maxwell would get her nowhere, and she'd recently decided on something that needed to be carefully laid out before night fell. So she made as if to leave the room, but suddenly turned back around as if just remembering something. "By the way, Anderson dropped in for a visit; he said I can leave tonight."

Maxwell pouted. "That's not fair! I should be the one getting out, not being stuck here for a week!" Suddenly, he seemed to realize something. "Wait, Anderson's here? I thought he was still in Rome... Do you know if he's staying at the Manin?"

"How should I know?" Integra quipped, but as soon as her back was turned she smiled to herself. _Gotcha._

Maxwell sighed, frustrated. "What a fantastic help you are. Go on, get out of here. You're disturbing me."

"Yes, well, you disturb me, too," she said, and abruptly walked out the door so as to have the last word.

Maxwell watched her leave, and couldn't help feeling there was something she wasn't telling him. He'd seen Integra enough to be able to tell when she was hatching something, and he could definitely tell something was up. However, he didn't have time to think more on his suspicions, because just then the door swung open yet again, and two people entered the room...


End file.
